frayed
by Cerulean Musings
Summary: Tumblr prompt: "I keep messaging you, but you never reply?" Reggie made a mistake working for Hiram Lodge; he was blinded by his grief. But who would understand that? Wynn would; he knew she would always come back to him. But this time he had to know why. He wasn't ready for the answer. Slight Reggie/OC


_**frayed**_

He shoveled his fingers through his hair; at least it was _something_ he could get a grip on. Everything else slipped through his fingers like sand; his sanity, his control, his life. He brushed the backs of his hands against his eyes, smearing the freshly fallen tears against his ruddy cheeks, sniffing and then releasing a heavy breath.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

 _This wasn't supposed to happen._

Reggie's lower lip trembled as he took in another breath. The crinkle of his eyes squeezed out a fresh wave of tears. His leg bounced beneath the table and he clasped his hands together, pressing his fist against his mouth. What was going to happen now? What if the Serpents found him? What would his dad say? What would his _mom_ say? What would Hiram do to him? What could he do? Where could he go?

" _Dammit!"  
_

His fists pounded down on the table, making the salt and pepper shakers and the mini jukebox to jump and rattle. His leg bounced harder. His thumb went up to his mouth, teeth sinking down onto the nail, reigniting the old habit he thought had been broken years ago under his mother's strict upbringing. _Sorry, mom, guess I disappointed you two-fold._

 _"There_ you are!"

Her voice cut through the din of Pop's, like a beacon in his storm. His breath stalled, his muscles tensed, and his heart galloped in his chest. He removed his thumb from his mouth, pressed his lips into a line, and looked up to be sure. To be sure that he wasn't seeing things, that wishful thinking wasn't playing a cruel trick on him. That she was there, even after all this time.

"I keep messaging you but you never reply?" Wynn continued, trying to coax something about of him.

Reggie's eyes met Wynn's. A stabbing pain burst in the pit of his stomach as her eyes bounced over his hunched form, taking in his reddened eyes and tear-stained cheeks. Her mouth was a thin line, her fingers curling and unfurling as her hands hung by her side as if she didn't know what to do but had to do _something._

He used to be able to read her mind, know what she was going to say before she said it, knew what she thought and felt and needed and wanted. But he messed that up. Like he messed everything up. Like he was messing this up, his life.

"I didn't…Wynnie…you have to know, I never…" Reggie tried to say but words failed him. And he hated it, hated that he was a blubbering mess, hated that everything got _this_ far. _Too_ far. "This wasn't supposed to happen. I just…I don't know. I didn't hurt him, Wynn. I didn't _shoot_ him. I didn't."

"I know."

The shiny vinyl of the booth seat sagged as Wynn crashed onto it and threw her arms around his neck. His breath rushed out of him all at once and when he breathed back in he took in the colliding scent of her fruity shampoo and something floral; the scent of _her._

And all at once he was brought back to the previous year, when they were still together, and they were curled up in blankets in his home's game room listening to his father's jazz records talking about anything and everything that came to mind. When she was snuggled against his chest playing with his fingers and he was playing with her hair because he couldn't get enough of it when it was curly. Back before he messed that up too.

"Wynnie." He gently placed his hands on her shoulders and pushed her away, loosening her hold around his neck. His eyes closed at the lack of warmth but he stood his ground. He didn't deserve the care, the attention. He didn't then and he didn't now. "God, I fucked up."

"Yeah, you really did," Wynn stated.

He didn't expect less from her, her clear-cut honest was what drew him to her in the first place, but man did she know how to make it sting.

Reggie rubbed at his eyes with the heels of his palms. "I didn't shoot him."

"I _know_. It was Mrs. Klump."

His head whipped around and he searched her face because, maybe that was some sick joke, but she merely stared back at him. His head began to throb. So it had to be true. "Mrs. Klump?"

"You weren't the only one who…" Wynn's words failed her and she cleared her throat and started dragging the ring that lay on a chain around her neck from one end to the other. "But…but that doesn't make it any better."

"She was with a _Serpent!_ And she's…she's _dead_ because of him!"

"She's _dead_ because of someone playing judge, jury, and executioner!" Wynn shot back, tears lining her bottom lids like dew drops on leaf petals. "I can't speak ill of the dead, but she made her decision. It was _her_ choice and something _she_ should have taken up with Moose! Fangs shouldn't be punished for it!"

Reggie grabbed at his hair, shaking his head. "I just wanted him to _hurt_ , Wynnie. I wanted him to hurt." He grabbed his chest, right over the large gold R on his varsity jacket. "I just want him to hurt…like I"m hurting right here. Midge…is _gone_. Just gone."

"I know! _I get it_." Wynn sniffed and set her jaw, seconds passing by before she said in a pained whisper, "She was my friend too."

Reggie crossed his arms, curled in on himself, set his jaw and stared down at the shiny table with a water ring forever emblazoned in its top. "Why're you here, Wynnie?" he asked, his words a low mumble. _You shouldn't be here. You shouldn't care. Why do you care?_

 _"…_ Because I love you."

His breath came out in one rush, disbelief igniting it like gunpowder in a cannon. He lifted his head, blinking, eyebrows furrowing. He couldn't have heard her right. In their entire two year relationship not once had she uttered those three words. Could she possibly, truly, mean them now?

He wanted an answer, tried for one, but it was in that moment that Archie, Moose, and Kevin came bursting into Pop's and joined them in their booth. Wynn tore her eyes away, shifting into Moose's side as his arm stretched across the back of the booth and they exchanged quiet words. Reggie's mouth twisted to the side. He could ask about it later, get some answers, so long as he survived the night.


End file.
